


don't worry, baby.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Nodame Cantabile (Anime & Manga), Nodame Cantabile (Live Action TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: After a long time, Chiaki and Mine meet in tearful circumstances.
Relationships: Chiaki Shinichi/Mine Ryuutarou





	don't worry, baby.

**Disclaimer: Nodame Cantabile isn’t mine.**  
  
/“Why do you continue to play?” I ask you the night before I leave.  
“The heat inside my body needs to get out. I don’t know how to write. I can’t sing well and I don’t read too often. Music is the only time I can say what I want without messing up.” You’re too honest with your depressed state.  
“Ah…sou ka.” I smoked my cigarette, looking up to the night sky.  
  
At that moment, your leather glove touched my fingertips. But you played an imaginary melody onto my fingers though you couldn’t play piano.  
  
For a second there, they almost mimicked the ones I played when I was all alone at night./  
  
Smashing the cigarette into the astray, I press the button of my answering machine. I’ve gotten no sleep as I hear your voice over and over again saying, “I’m coming.”  
  
That was four days ago. I make light of the situation. “You probably got lost.”  
  
I press my fingers onto the surface of the cold window.  
Waiting,  
  
impatiently.  
  
 **don’t worry, baby.  
By miyamoto yui**  
  
With the melody still ringing in my ears, I don’t notice the disjointed music box has stopped playing.  
  
In a moment’s disillusion, I forget I’m the one that smashed it against the wall. Seeing it on the floor, I immediately feel guilty as it touches the ripped pieces of a newspaper I just half-read. But I know from the medium-sized jagged, black glass window behind you that my face, just like always, is as clear as smooth stone.  
  
 _It isn’t you. It will always be my fault.  
You will always be free of the blemishes of this world.  
  
They’ll turn to lifelong bruises. You don’t deserve something like that.  
I need lots of growing up to do, you know._  
  
I look up and I see you watching me with those wide eyes, but you don’t tremble and nor do you move. Against the background of the blue sky of this highrise building, you just stand there watching me like a mirror. Calmly, it feels like I am watching myself.  
I don’t think I can take that kind of strength. Coming to terms with yourself is probably the worst war you’ll ever have in your life.  
  
And so, you bury yourself with distractions. In other ways, you run away like I did. In between all the castles and ancient architecture, I hid in my creative studio (or the office where I breathe music in my head into life). Away from the chaos of the outside world and its expectations, I make myself more confused inside my own self-made music box.  
  
But looking at you, I know, in a fearful glance, that that isn’t true at all. The worst thing in the world is to have to lose someone right in front of you. Absurdly, the thing you love the most is the very thing you hurt on purpose to have them stop loving you back.  
  
Incessantly...deliberately…  
seemingly guiltless in disguise.  
  
 _What have I done? What have I made out of you?  
Why should I react when it’s so late to do so?_  
  
My eyes look down at the music box again. In my usual calm tone, I start to say, “I-“  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” you say to me, almost in an apologetic tone. You half-smile as in “I knew it” and the disappointed other half means “It’s all right.”  
  
 _But it isn’t your fault. Why are you still forgiving me?_  
  
You kneel to the ground and pick up each piece of the music box: The splintered wooden case with its detached lid. The little boy of porcelain in the middle is smashed beyond recognition. Only his black hat remains undamaged, but the bottom shows it was once attached to a small head.  
Even as I see you pick up the glass pieces of the mini-stained glass wings, I remain still. I cannot seem to move towards you.  
  
Even though my eyes are transfixed on you, I steal a glimpse of the now-cold morning coffee and one cigarette on my desk that may have helped my nerves.  
  
 _How can you move so easily in this silence?_  
  
Then, you stop and hold everything in your arms. Your bangs fall in front of your eyes. Did they grow this fast since you were last here? Time never catches my attention except whenever you force me to look at you.  
Even if you are how old, your lip quivers. The rest of your body begins to shiver.  
  
The small colored pieces fall to the ground through the crevices of your fingers.  
  
Finally, I see your tears even though your eyes aren’t looking up at me.  
  
Even though we know each other very well, why can’t we ever come close together? With all your thoughts about the other, what keeps you apart? Is it that feeling of unworthiness because of your own impurities? Is it the pride of being able to ask for help, especially from the person you want the most near you?  
Why is it your weakness the only thing you cannot accept about yourself when the other person will forgive you even to the point of being unreasonable? It doesn’t make any sense.  
  
Yet, I cannot move though I am moved to the point of brokenness within myself.  
  
 _I am jealous of the person I used to be for you.  
I am so angry at the person standing before you.  
  
But you, you only see the answers. These are the results of all my thinking.  
From a logical standpoint, they make perfect sense from the way I usually act. And from the perspective of my own emotions, they are disarranged.  
  
Out of order, you deal with the remainder of my sanity.  
  
Why did you come here even though you knew what would happen?_  
  
It is always the same. I have a million conversations in my head with you, but I can’t say even one word of comfort or of disdain to you.  
  
It messes up my balance.  
  
“I just came here to give you back what you gave me. Of all the gifts I’ve ever gotten in my whole life, that was what carried me through everything.” You begin to laugh. “But I let you down, didn’t I? I didn’t go as high as you expected me to. It’s longer than you want it to be. I am no match for you, but I won’t say anything more than that.”  
  
 _You are more than a match for me. Believe me!_  
  
Gravely, you get up and look me in the eye. “It’s only right that you should break something you don’t need anymore. After all, it’s rude to receive gifts back.”  
  
 _No…not this voice…_  
  
“Then why did you dare to come here?” I step forward, crushing the small oranges, red, blue, yellow, and transparent specks onto the soles of my black shoes.  
  
Like a samurai, I slice cleanly with my tongue, “Before I am the aim of your goals, I am the conductor of worthy players.”  
  
At this point, I close my eyes in feigned annoyance and take your two hands to drop everything onto the surface of the sleek black desk, and pull your wrists to wash out the blood on your hands.  
I don’t look at you and nor do I take off the anger showing on my face. You don’t cry but you watch me closely.  
  
Before drying your right hand, you reach out to touch my face. I twitch and turn away but you reach out for it anyway until your cold hand touches my almost lifeless cheek.  
  
 _How much older have you become? There’s more softness than when you first smiled to tell me ‘Don’t worry so much’ with your glove scratching my cheek.  
How can that be when it’s not even been three years?_  
  
From the gentleness of your tone, I don’t have to see how attentively you’re observing me. “In the end, am I really the only one to see you are this kind?”  
  
“It must be your imagination,” I retort in disgust. “Your talent is within your hands and if you wreck them, what is left for you?”  
“Her.”  
  
I twitch. Finally, the questions I had a long time ago are coming into place. Because I had taken so long to choose, karma chose for me.  
  
“Don’t worry, Baby.” Then, you grin again, clearing your throat while pulling your hand away. “Now, you can stop playing piano in the dark, Chiaki. You can finally have peace by not thinking too hard about your career or about getting married-“  
  
“Idiot. You idiot…” I say as I take your neck with my arm and cry quietly into your shoulder so that you can’t see my face. “Why do you always say ‘Don’t worry, Baby?’ at the most inopportune times?”  
  
  
“Because you won’t ever admit that you need help.”  
  
  
“Ore-sama doesn’t need help.”  
  
  
“You sure about that?” In an instant, you pull away and start to tickle me. I’m appalled and fall onto the floor as I laugh over again and again.  
  
 _It’s so easy to talk to you because you’re a simple-minded idiot. I don’t feel tense with you. Your feelings for anyone or anything are so clear, I envy you that you can be focused.  
  
You are the only one that can make me cry or laugh like this. Did you know that?_  
  
You sit on my stomach and shake your head. “I will always be by your side, Chiaki. I told you that a long time ago and you didn’t understand what it meant.”  
“But what about?”  
  
“The tabloids made up that I was getting married. What about yourself?” You give me a long stare. “After ALL the trouble I had in getting to Europe when you told me if I got the Rising Star Orchestra members to a certain point and then we should come to perform a special concert for you!”  
“It still wasn’t enough for you.” You begin to cry onto my face. “After I battled it out to become the best Concert Master, you still broke the music box you gave me with that piece you loved from Vierra-sensei’s orchestra when you were little.”  
  
At that moment, I chuckle and bring your head down to my shoulder. I hug you tighter and tighter as I look up to the ceiling with the tears running down the sides of my face.  
  
Happily, I tell you, “I will fix it with my own two hands, I promise.”  
  
Lifting up your head as I tenderly touch the back of your head and run my fingers through your bleached hair, you agree, “That means I can go again.”  
I give him a curious look. “What do you mean by that?”  
“The papers in Japan say I was quitting because I ran away before I contacted everyone. I was going to do it here-“  
“AITSU!”  
  
Within a blink of an eye, I pull him to breathlessly kiss me.  
  
I clear my throat when he finally sits up with a dazed expression on his face. “Should we continue more-“  
  
I sigh as I look up at him. As he smiles down at me, I think I’m resigned to my fate.  
  
Blushing, I turn my head to one side. “Today, you may do as you ple-“  
  
You waste no time to kiss me with your whole body, even more passionate than the performance you gave days ago that gave you the title you proudly hold to your name.  
  
All this time, I waited for you to come here. Who else would still write letters to you, you idiot?  
  
Yes…this heat is searing from the inside, and I don’t mind if it engraves a burn mark onto my soul and within my body.  
  
 **Owari.**

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended for another couple, but I felt like writing about Chiaki. Although I really love Nodame and Chiaki together (esp. after the drama), I can’t help the suggestions I got from writing so much yaoi. --;;;
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Love always,  
> Yui


End file.
